Daughter of the Deep(72)

‘Wait …’ I refocus on Ester. ‘Are you saying I shouldn’t judge Dev too harshly? Or …?’

Ester picks up a new index card. She frowns at it, as if the lines aren’t quite parallel. ‘I’m just saying that people are complicated. Nemo was a different man by the time Harding and Pencroft met him: older, bitter, disillusioned. That’s why he wanted his technology hidden away and guarded. HP was motivated by Nemo’s caution – paranoia, even. So you’ve got two completely different schools, Land Institute and Harding-Pencroft, inspired by different sides of the same person.’

My head throbs. The alt-tech aspirin seems to be stitching my skull back together in the most painful way possible. ‘Those are my two choices of which Nemo I want to be? The angry one or the paranoid one?’

‘No.’ Ester jots something down – hopefully not therapy notes. ‘Maybe Dev fell into that trap. He thought he had to choose. Maybe you don’t have to. You both have some Dakkar personality traits, sure. But you can decide to be a different kind of Captain Nemo.’

I stare at Ester, amazed by how obvious she makes it all sound.

‘I just want to do the right thing,’ I say.

‘So does Dev, I bet,’ Ester says. ‘The difference is, you have the sub. You have Nemo’s resources. You could build an entirely new Harding-Pencroft, if you wanted to. I’d like to help.’

‘Nemo’s resources?’ I get the feeling she’s not just talking about his cold-fusion engine, or his cav-drive, or his copious reservoir of seaweed slime.

Ester checks her watch. ‘Hasn’t been an hour yet, but I guess you’ve rested long enough. Come on. There’s one more door I want you to unlock.’





Every time I think the Nautilus can’t surprise me any more, I find out I’m wrong.

On the sub’s lowest level, in the back of the main storeroom, crates have been moved aside to reveal a large metal vault door like the one that leads to the subterranean lake in Lincoln Base.

‘Rhys and Linzi found it while doing inventory,’ Ester says. ‘I think I know what’s inside, but there’s only one way to be sure.’

In other words, she needs the magic Nemo hands.

I study the lock. I trust Ester’s instincts, but still … I’m hesitant about opening a door someone took the trouble to hide. If Nemo had any skeletons in his closet (literal or otherwise), this seems like the kind of closet he’d keep them in.

‘Nautilus,’ I say in Bundeli, ‘would it be okay if I opened this door?’

All by itself, the lock spins. Bolts click and release. I guess that’s a yes.

I pull the door open. Inside …

Oh.

Normally, I’m not a material girl. Stuff doesn’t impress me.

But for a moment I forget how to breathe. I relive one of my earliest memories, when Dev, who must’ve been pretty much a baby himself, blew in my nostrils, his stronger lungs overwhelming my own, leaving me gasping in shock.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

‘Nemo’s treasury,’ Ester says, remarkably calm. ‘I thought so.’

Now I understand the old saying all that glitters is not gold. Because in Nemo’s treasury room a lot of the glitter comes from silver, diamonds, rubies, pearls and crazy fancy jewellery. The shelves are lined with wooden chests, each overflowing with carefully sorted loot. Nemo was apparently obsessed with order. He has all the diamonds grouped together, all the rubies, all the pearls sorted by colour and size. Against the far wall is a pallet of gold bricks. There’s even a shelf with half a dozen crowns, each of which looks like it might have been ripped from the head of some nineteenth-century monarch. All in all, the room reminds me of a bizarre supply store.

Excuse me, sir, where can I find sapphires?

Yes, those would be on aisle three, just past the silver-ingot display.

‘Wow,’ I say, which seems insufficient.

Ester looks around in awe. ‘This room was organized by a genius.’

Top sniffs around the treasure, wagging his tail half-heartedly as if to say, Well, I guess it’s all right, but it ain’t doggy treats.

Ester picks up a shoebox-size chest of white pearls. ‘Nemo gave Harding and Pencroft a box like this. It was enough to build the academy.’

‘There must be twenty boxes like that in here,’ I say.

Ester scans the room, probably running estimates. ‘Nemo gathered some of it from the merchant vessels he plundered, some from older shipwrecks he discovered. In 20,000 Leagues, he boasted that he could pay off the national debt of France and it wouldn’t make a dent in his fortune. This room may be just one of his stashes. Harding family legends say Nemo had supply bases hidden all over the world.’

I wonder if this is what Land Institute wanted, too, along with the technology: money. Such a common thing to want, but with this much wealth they could probably build three more Aronnaxes and topple several world governments. Given the potential payoff, risking their brand-new sub and their senior class starts to sound like a solid gamble.

Thinking about it in those terms makes me want to take a shower.

My eyes fix on a strange-looking instrument propped in the corner. It’s about the size of a guitar, but with a keyboard instead of strings, alt-tech gears and levers where the fret board should be, even a dial that looks like a colour wheel, maybe for special visual effects?